and you said watch my head about it
by vega-de-la-lyre
Summary: “Say no more,” Tony says as the elevator doors slide open. “Pleasant dreams, Miss Potts. Of midget SHIELD agents with no personality to speak of.” Movieverse, sequel to i'll make a splash on the hudson.


**Title**: & you said watch my head about it**  
Fandom**: Iron Man (movieverse)**  
Word Count**: 1923**  
Rating:** PG-13**  
Characters/Pairings:** Tony and Pepper, vague UST**  
Disclaimer**: Everything you recognise is all Marvel's folks, and the title is Rufus Wainwright's.**  
Summary**: "Say no more," Tony says as the elevator doors slide open. "Pleasant dreams, Miss Potts. Of midget SHIELD agents with no personality to speak of."

--

**Notes**: Um, because the Sentient Armour storyline _never stops being hilarious_. Also, in my head, Tony is really jealous of Reed Richards for no good reason. I don't know, either. Sequel to an earlier story, i'll make a splash on the hudson, that's how i will arrive. Title from the song "Poses" by Rufus Wainwright.

--

It is three in the morning, and Pepper is tired.

The sound of her high heels clicking echoes in the narrow steel elevator. It's been a long day for her, although probably a longer one for Tony; after the crisis in the morning with Bruno Horgan, and a nervewracking half-hour when the suit's comm tech broke down and even Rhodey hadn't been able to find Tony (pinned down, as they'd eventually discovered, by a block of concrete in an abandoned subway tunnel), Pepper had spent the day and into the night doing damage control and fielding calls from the press. Her gaze fixes on the illuminated panel of numbers; she doesn't realise that she's been steadily falling asleep as the lights blur together and fade temporarily into darkness until the elevator beeps at her, and Pepper snaps awake. Longingly, she thinks of the nice crisp sheets awaiting her in her hotel suite, and she thinks, _no rest for the wicked_ as she steps out into the dark, damp parking garage Tony has temporarily converted into a makeshift workroom.

"Tony!" she calls. It's freezing down here, and she pulls her coat closer. "Tony, I'm leaving. Hello?"

The place is cluttered with heaps of scrap metal and half-built prototypes. She picks her way through the wreckage to find Tony standing over a drafting table scattered with scorched, broken pieces of the armour, scowling.

"I swear to God, Pepper," he says, rolling the battered helmet between his hands. He blinks at her, owl-like, through his goggles; coupled with his wild hair and the smear of black grease across his cheek, the effect is comical and not a little endearing. "I thought Afghanistan was bad, but this? It's my own freaking building, for Chrissakes, I should be allowed to have a proper workshop. God, I miss the place in Malibu."

"Is this about the thing with the insurance company?"

"All I'm saying," Tony says, "is that if Reed Richards is allowed to do whatever he wants over at the Baxter Building, the least they can give me is a proper workshop so I don't have to skulk in the basement. It's my own building. It's completely unfair. Why does everyone love Reed Richards? Is it the thing with the hair? Do women find that attractive? Because if so, I will totally go gray. White. I'll go white. That Anderson Cooper look. How does a dork like him manage to snag a babe like Sue Storm? I ask you."

"Tony," Pepper says, "you're going to turn _my_ hair white. And the insurance people have nearly had a stroke over the whole, you know, superhero thing, so let it go for now. And get to bed."

"I need a scotch," Tony says morosely. "And I need to rework this damned suit. I can't afford to let it go to waste, and—God, the communications should not have failed, I don't know what the hell happened—"

"No, Tony, what you need is a decent night's sleep," Pepper says. "Come on. If you put any more tech in that suit it's going to become sentient. And then it's going to try and kill you for all the abuse you've put it through."

"Turn on its maker," Tony says thoughtfully, tugging off his goggles. "I can totally see it. How Shakespearean. Wagnerian. Possibly a Greek tragedy? Like what's-his-face… not Pythagoras, the other one… you know, the story about the creepy statue thingy."

"You can stop now, Tony," Pepper says. "You are an incredibly cultured individual. I am in _awe_ of your infinite literary knowledge. And Pygmalion's statue ended up marrying him, so I don't think we're going to pursue this line of thinking any longer."

"Wow," Tony says. "You know, I'm completely with you on that?"

They both eye the suit for a long moment.

Tony shakes his head. "Okay," he says, standing and scrubbing at his grimy face with an even grimier towel, "I'm done for the night. Possibly forever. Jesus, Pepper, way to be a buzzkill."

Pepper hitches the strap of her purse higher on her shoulder. "Anyway," she says through a yawn. "I wanted to remind you before I left that I have the night off tomorrow. I figured that with everything that happened today, that crucial fact may have slipped your mind, and I know that right now isn't maybe the best time—"

"Remind me again," Tony says, walking her to the elevator with his hand in the small of her back, "what exactly are your plans?"

"I didn't tell you on purpose," she says. "Because you're going to laugh at me."

Tony's eyes widen gleefully, and to stall him off, Pepper raises a hand defensively.

"Don't start," she says. "I have a date with Agent Coulson, okay?"

"Oh," Tony says, trying to keep a straight face. "Oh, wow. You realise he's like five inches shorter than you? Doesn't he, I don't know, feel insecure about that, or something?"

Pepper gives Tony a cool, unruffled look. "I don't know, Tony," she says, "but seeing as how you're at least an inch shorter than me—"

"Do not even," Tony says. "Only when you're wearing those shoes. It doesn't—where is he taking you?"

"To dinner," Pepper says, jabbing ruthlessly at the button to call the elevator. "And then we're going to the Met for a show."

"A show, huh," Tony says. "A Journey concert, or…?"

"_Eugene Onegin_," Pepper says. "It's an opera. In case, you know, your vast supply of literary knowledge has temporarily failed you, as I can tell from the slightly blank look on your face. And I have to get my beauty sleep, so—"

"Say no more," Tony says as the elevator doors slide open. "Pleasant dreams, Miss Potts. Of midget SHIELD agents with no personality to speak of."

"Get some rest, Tony."

"The Melter," Pepper can hear Tony mutter in disgust as the doors close. "I need to get some better enemies."

--

Pepper is in the bathtub when her Blackberry goes off.

She opens one eyes and watches as it vibrates itself off the bathroom counter and onto the marble tiled floor. _Is it worth it_, she thinks. Is it worth it to pick it up and get tangled in whatever calamity her boss has clearly landed himself in this time?

And then she remembers finding him, bruised and exhausted, in that subway tunnel yesterday, remembers the way his hands shook after they pulled him out of the wreckage, and with a muffled moan she hauls herself out of the tub, dripping suds and water all over the floor, and pads over to her phone.

"Pepper," Tony says as soon she answers. "How're you doing?"

"Tony, you saw me half an hour ago," she says, pulling down a towel from the rack. Hotel living, she thinks, is almost worth it for the amazingly fluffy towels. "What do you want?"

"What do I want," Tony says. She can hear the clink of ice cubes in a glass. "Philosophically, or—oh, what did I call for? Well. Do you have a minute? Because I just wanted to ask you something."

"Stop hedging, Tony," Pepper says. "I have to leave soon. For my date. Remember?"

"Right, okay. See, the thing is—oh, _man, _that is just—"

"Tony," Pepper says suspiciously, "what's going on over there?"

"What do you mean, what's going on, absolutely nothing is—_spasibo_, Natasha," Tony says, and Pepper pinches at the bridge of her nose.

"Tony," she says. "For the love of all that is sacred, do not call me when you're with a girl, and especially on my night off. Please. Please."

"Mmph. Oh," Tony says, "believe me, Natasha is very far from being a girl ha ha ha _wow_, okay, okay, hold on a second."

She can hear things banging around in the background, and suddenly it is quiet again.

"Okay," Tony says. "Just the two of us. Listen, I know we have the roster for the Avengers pretty much assembled by now, but I still feel like we're missing something. A wild card. An edge. That final—what do you think about adding Natasha?"

"Um," Pepper says. "What do I think, or what do you want me to say? Because, Tony, she's an awfully wild card. How many bosses is she working for right now? I mean that entirely seriously. I know you like her, but can you trust her?"

"Point," Tony says. "And for the record, thus far this evening I've only found three weapons concealed on her person and one was in a very, _very _concealed place so I'm not even sure I should count that one, because, okay, Jesus. But you get where I'm going."

"I do," Pepper says. "But I don't think Comrade Romanova is the direction you want to go in. It'll work itself out, Tony."

"Natasha tells me that the lead in _Onegin_, Hvoro—"

"Dmitri Hvorostovsky," Pepper says patiently.

"Yes, him—she says he has white hair. And is very attractive. Is this true?"

"No comment," Pepper says. "I have to get ready for my date, Mr Stark. Will that be all?"

Tony sounds amused. "That'll be all, Miss Potts," he says. "Say hi to Agent Coulson for me."

"You can tell him yourself," Pepper says. "He'll be coming with General Fury to the meeting tomorrow."

"God_damn_," Tony says, and hangs up.

--

"So," Tony says. "How was your date."

"My date," Pepper says, straightening his tie, "was excellent. You know, people say that chivalry is dead, but Agent Coulson is just such a gentleman? Refined, too. You don't see that too often in men these days."

"That was an unnecessarily pointed remark," Tony says, and Pepper bites back a smile. "Hope you weren't out too late, I need my assistant in ship-shape to deal with the morons at SHIELD today."

Pepper placidly straightens the shoulders of his suit. "I was back at the hotel and asleep by midnight."

Tony looks like he wants to say something more, but uncharacteristically restrains himself. "Mmhmm," he says. "About that—your flat is ready upstairs. I had to lean on the contractors, and when I say lean, I mean I nearly had to break out the suit and pound them into getting the work done. But hey. It's finished."

Pepper blinks at him in surprise. "Tony," she says. "Thank you, I—"

"Please." Tony cuts her off. "Trust me, I'm the one benefiting from this situation, not you. And, hell, it'll save money on cab fares—Pepper, do you realise that since we moved here your freckles have almost completely faded? I love your freckles. You aren't Pepper without your freckles. This is a deeply tragic state of affairs."

"We live in New York now," Pepper says, tugging at the front of his suit to smooth the lines. "This isn't Malibu, and also, there is no reason that you should be looking at my face closely enough to pick up on that fact. Have you ever heard the words_ personal_ and_ space_ in conjunction with one another?"

"Says the one who currently groping me," Tony says. "Anyway. I'm sending you to Hawaii for a vacation. A couple weeks in the sunshine—"

Suddenly, there is a rumbling from beneath them, and a loud _boom_ comes from the general vicinity of Central Park.

Pepper looks at Tony.

"Hold that thought," he says as he loosens his tie and goes tearing out of the room in search of the suit.

Pepper sighs, and follows.


End file.
